Lost
by DeangirlSam1212
Summary: Warning: Wincest! What will Sam do when Dean goes missing. And will Dean lose faith in Sam and lose all hope that his little brother would ever find him. Hurt!Dean Heroic!Frantic!Sam Rated T just in case.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

My Love

The night whistled and screamed eerily as the black muscle car sped down the road. The grey abandoned warehouses dotted the street with their dark treachurous features, there had to be at least five of these buildings

But sinse the brothers only used the abandoned buildings if there wasn't a motel to be found for miles to come. Fortunetaly their was a town about ten miles east, that wasn't as far gone as this one.

Sam had just took a trip to the store and now couldn't stand the wait to get back to the motel they were staying at. For it was where his true love was guaranteed to be waiting for his presence.

He had only been gone an hour and already missed those dazzeling jade wonders, and long thick eyelashes he loved to kiss so.

Sam sighed happily in content. He knew he didn't deserve this, he freaking broke Dean's heart when he left him for Stanford. And countless times after.

But Dean, being the kind selfless man Sam fell in love with, always took him back with open arms.

Sam finally sighted the lights of the town they were staying at for the next week.

Nothing major had really turned up so far so, instead of sitting on their asses, being bored all the damn time, they settled for a simple Cupacabrah hunt.

Driving slowly into the streets of town, he spotted the motel [ which just happened to be at the beginnings of town. He would be eternilly grateful for that] and pulled into the small lot.

The car door squeaked as it opened and he jumped from its contents.

Shaking the key from his jacket pocket he unlocked the door with ease.

Sam opened the entrance door and was about to call for his beloved older brother when he caught sight of him sleeping soundly on their king-sized bed.

Sam looked fondly at his love, relishing his beauty.

Dean's long lashes seemed to have the capability to scoop up the whole town into its strong, thick embrace.

They created dark shadows below.

The moon filtering through the window illuminated his face, soft in sleep.

Sam let him sleep, it had been deprived lately, ever sinse his return from Hell.

The younger hunter shivered at that thought, he never wanted to go back to that again.

A life without Dean.

He'd had a taste of that.

He'd tried to spit it out but, for months, it planted itself on his tongue.

Sam had been going crazy, suicidal crazy.

And, again, Dean showed up and saved the day.

Soothing Sam's woes, in all the while when Sam was supposed to be soothing his.

Oh, he'd never stop oweing his brother. Only whenever Sam tried to pay him back Dean wouldn't take the money. He refused to.

Never let Sam risk his life to save his.

Sam sighed and made his way over to the bed.

Laying down he gently cupped Dean's soft cheek, and Dean absently snuggled closer, seeking more warmth.

He put an arm around the slumbering hunter and nuzzleing his cheek against his brother's.

He settled comfortably, as always when he slept with Dean, and felt himself being lurred to sleep by the sweet sound of Dean's breathing filling his ears.


	2. Chapter 2

Hey, I'm not sure if I should let this story go. I don't really feel into this one but I don't really wanna give up. I'm not a quiter. Tell me if I should finish this or not kay?

Chapter 2

The Door

I stretch and crawl, like the worms in my skin,

like the guilt in my soul.

This house,

this treachery.

My heart and me.

Is not your fantasy for you are not a ghoul.

Is not you dreams, upon that one of a fool is me.

Howls in the bouls of the beast that yowls.

Maybe today,

Oh maybe today,

I'll find my true light.

The man hid deeper into his grey hoodie as he snuck stealthily in the shadows of the many warehouses, into a rotting, torn room with yellowish walls.

Stained with years worth of urine and feces of the wild animals sheltering in the old building.

Stepping into the fully concealed room he removed his hood to reveal the face of the young teenage boy he was wearing.

His brown spiked hair struck out in all directions, and his dark blue eyes shown brightly despite the darkness of the building.

"Welcome brother, it has been many long years. I am suprised you came," the dark voice was like melted choclate as it oozed into the aching room.

"Of course, who's to say I wouldn't have?" The boy snapped, the fire in his voice singed his words to be as dark as coal. The challenge undenyable, his long ignored soul craving blood and duels.

The owner of the new voice stepped out of the darkness.

His skin dark and hair had hidden him in the shadows.

"Well, the worthiness wasn't exactly tangible last time. Your promise is starting to fail me," the man remember expressionlessly.

"That was a long time ago," the teen stepped forward, towards the man that dared challenge his loyalty, insisting that he let him to the job. He had called him for it after all.

All the boy had to do was earn it, then once again he could rule life as it is.

"People like you don't even deserve the opportunity to even try for jobs as this. You are lucky I am even bothering to offer."

"People change, I've changed," he urged desperately, hopeful eyes searching the other.

"No they don't. Not really. You of all people should know that."

The man's gravelly voice seemed to scrape at the boys bones and soul for he flinched at the sharpness of it.

The boy's eyes bore into the man's as he pleaded "Please, I'll prove myself. I'll prove to you, I am worthy, the proof is in my heart and soul and is as true as Lucifer's cell, I promise."

The man eyed him as he decided his fate for what seemed like years until he said " I may open the door, but it is your job to walk through. Do not fail me this time."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Sam gently stroked the older man's hair and planted a kiss upon his nose.

He leaned into the loving arms and bathed in their warmth.

Sam had never felt to in love in his entire life.

He just wanted to lay here, in Dean's captivating gaze and cherishable arms.

Forever is what he wanted, but getting up is a need.

Besides, he had to get to that local bar "Kitty Paws" to interview the witnesses, and victims of their latest hunt.

"Dean," Sam fiddled with the hem of Dean's navy-blue tee.

"Yeah? What's up?" Dean turned his eyes to Sam in a casual gesture.

The green in his eyes sparkled, and Sam was beginning to forget what he was going to tell Dean, because of it.

"We have to go," the reluctance in his voice clear, and more like whining then a demand.

Groaning, Dean, slowly, eased himself out of the tangle of arms and legs they had entwined overnight.

Days like this were always the times Sam could just enjoy life, and be grateful for whoever they had left in it.

Dean, especially,

Dean… His world, his life, his everything.

With what they did for a living, he had to be grateful for still having him.

If Dean died again…Well, lets just say it wouldn't be too pretty.

He wouldn't ever kill himself.

No, his pain would never abate or fade, even then.

No, he would search.

Search for a way to return him to Sam.

If he grew too old; he would find a potion to become immortal.

It's either that or the vampires. And he didn't want to think about that, but he would resort to that if necessary.

"Guess I'll go take a shower. Be right back." Sam made his way over to the motel bathroom.

Then he paused.

Then he turned to gaze, mischievously, at Dean's tired; slumped form.

"Unless, you might care to join me."

And, suddenly, Dean began to practically glow before his very eyes.

His eyes brightened and all signs of laziness dissipated as he looked excitedly back at Sam. A smirk appearing upon his, now fully awake, visage.

" Yes, no, maybe, so?" Sam's grin spread to his ears as he watched Dean spring to his feet and scamper his way.

Practically ripping off his clothes.

"Coming!"

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"So, you're saying you didn't see the man, you only heard him?"

Sam questioned the young man in the bar.

"No, I didn't see him. It was dark.

I was just walking home from school, through the warehouses.

That's my usual short-cut, I mean nothing's like this has ever happened before.

No sign of threat or anything." The young teen said.

"Tell me exactly how it happened."

"I was walking when all of the sudden this weird darkness appears out of freaking no where."

"But, I thought it was dark, wouldn't you have not been able to see it," Sam knew what he was talking about. And he knew what the boy would say, but he was taught to always be thorough.

"It was, but it was different, it felt different. It was pitch black, no light or lighter shade.

Just black.

It was covering me, choking me, or at least that was what it felt like," the boy shuffled nervously on his toes. Ready to sprint at any sudden movement.

"And this man, when did he arrive?" Sam pressed, feeling the spiky-haired boy's doors closing. Where there was no guarantee for them to open again.

So, he had to swoop in and get all the treasures.

"No, not the man exactly, just a shadow."

"What did he do? Did he say anything?"

"He just said something about taking what was rightfully his. Which was probably my wallet, that bastard," he finished with a scowl. Grumbling to himself, which somewhat resembled and reminded him of Dean.

Then reminding himself that he needed to be wrapping this up soon.

"What happened after you saw and heard this?"

"I blacked out and woke up in one of the old warehouses. Can't remember which one specifically."

And with a final tap of his pen, Sam muttered his thanks and wandered away.

He then sorted his way through the ramble of clamorous people in search of his love.

Sam spotted him sitting over near the bar, leaning forward with a mildly shocked expression lighting his face.

Shooting it directly towards the victim, he was interviewing.

Honestly, he looked like he was about to explode, and the dark-skinned, shady alcoholic, bottom flat on the seat in front of him, with a sickening smirk planted upon his visage.

Sam stared horridly and disapprovingly at the hand sliding rapidly towards Dean's inner thigh.

An outraged gasp escaping his gaped lips and he lunged forward, to Dean's back side, to swing his arms around his neck and kiss his cheek.

"Hey, love. You finished up over here, yet? I'm starving, and if I'm this hungry, I can only imagine the pain you're in," he said, grinning at the look of pure relief written upon the stricken man's face.

"Yea, I was just finishing up here," Dean stiffly flashed a weak smile back at the man as he grew red in embarrassment.

The darkly skinned man sputtered for a moment, as if about to speak, but seemed to think better of it.

He then slipped silently off the chair and walked away.

Dean turned back to Sam and chuckled.

"So, that's Justin? Wow, what a dick," Sam said, still grinning at the disappointment in Justin's brown eyes.

Though Sam didn't really him.

Dean was a piece of art, really.

Dean was the kind of person, if you saw on the T.V. you'd pause it and stare at his face for what seems like eternity.

Or until your family get home to interrupt your fantasy.

Sam grumbled in dissatisfaction at that thought, Remembering his own daydreaming, watching Dean's beautiful, soft face in sleep, only for him to wake up or Dad to come home from a hunt.

And Justin wasn't that bad looking either.

Long, wavy chocolate brown hair, dazzling blue eyes, with the baby face of a rich boy.

And his tan skin didn't disappoint either, but it's not the looks that make love, is it?

But, anyway, he'd no right to call him a dick, but he was still furious about him hitting on his brother.

That was forbidden territory.

"Come on, lets go, Dean.

I have some things you may want to hear."

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I've found their location.

My subject is showing fair activity.

It is almost time to make a move.

I see they have spoken to my previous vessel.

I am glad I ditched that one.

It's body odors were beginning to in crowd me.

But, anyway, if I am going to get anywhere close to taking him and keeping him as that: I am going to have to befriend the danger and stick close.

Be someone who is trusted and no-one would suspect.

But who…

TBC…


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Couldn't have been more than nine when Dean fist told Sam that he loved him.

Of course, it wasn't how they would say it now, or at least, that's not how Dean ment to say it.

But Sam took it that way.

He didn't say anything about it, though.

Just thought about it too hard, and too long, but the though of it being wrong never once crossed his mind.

And that should've been the first clue too.

And guess, you could say this is how it all started.

When hugs turned to kisses, and sleeping turned into sex.

They cared so much about eachother.

Sometimes too much for their own good.

They loved eachother too much to bare being thirty minutes without eachother.

Which is why his heart shattered when Dean wasn't in bed the next morning.

And the coldness the sheet gave off told Sam that Dean hadn't returned from his trip to the vending machine.

He franticly searched the motel room: for a note, clue, or anything to help him find his lost brother.

"Dean," he whispered.

"Please, be safe."

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Dean slowly came out from under the blanket of sleep that had folded over him.

He woke to coldness against his bare back and chest.

His limbs stretched to their length.

There wad no bed nor wall supporting his back, so he felt as if floating on air with the sky beneath his feet.

Dean's eyes swung open, taking in all of his surroundings.

He was strapped by iron chains to two metal poles, hanging in midair, basically, inside an old abandoned mill.

'Wait,' he thought, his mind still processing what all this could possibly mean.

'I was just outside the motel, and all I wanted was a Sprite before I went to bed.

That's all, I don't even know. I must be dreaming.'

Footsteps, barely audible, began steadily approaching.

The exposure, the coldness, and pure instinct brought him to resort to panic.

Dean struggled vainly to free himself of his chains.

Pain lacing through him at every step, flinching on each one.

And each tug on his bindings caused them to pull tighter, so he abruptly, stopped.

Dean hung limp, and spent in the freezing air.

Breathing heavily, as the footsteps grew closer, still.

That was when he finally realized; he wasn't dreaming.

"Hello, Dean," the grinding voice prowled around the moldy room like a cat, observing him, taking in every inch of his body, every weakness.

"I am really… honored to meet you." A young man, only about eighteen, appeared from the shadows.

Carrying a jagged, silver, dagger in his hands, twirling the piece of metal, delicately, between his fingers.

"We are going to have loads of fun tonight, I can promise you that."

The man's body and visage showed the ideal of an amateur, but the deep wisdom, glowing in his eyes proved otherwise.

It proved that this young man was just another demon to kill.

Or just another demon to kill him.

"Oh, I'm sure we are," Dean grinned, the words were brave for the position he was currently in, but the waver still lingered in his voice.

And it was true.

With the design of the object that held him; cold, bitter winds treading, maliciously,

Upon his bare back, and the vulnerability that was given to this demon set the fact in stone.

Dean was scared.

For the first time in a long time: Dean was scared.

Dean shuffled, uncomfortably, at this thought, making the chains tighten its hold.

He grunted, and winced.

Holding his breath until the pain slightly subsided.

The man chuckled darkly, the moonlight filtering through the window, dappling his unnaturally white teeth.

"I see you've already made yourself at home."

Dean smirked, his lips curling over his teeth, more a snarl then a smile.

But, for once, having no answer, he then focused souly on the crack winding about the top of the rood.

The shining stars booming delightedly at life, smiling brightly down upon his beaten face.

And for a moment, he was able to forget.

But, he soon returned, for the monster, with the mask of a man, foully growled "Look at me when I am speaking to you."

Dean's gaze snapped, quickly, back to the man's.

Who's eyes held the hunger and bitterness of a madman.

Then his scrawny figure stepped forward to place his fingers lightly on the side of Dean's chains.

The white in his smile grew as he let Dean process his plan of doing.

Pressure was slowly applied to the metal chain, and even this tiny movement caused Dean's cry of, excruciating, pain.

It was then he thought 'It's going to be a long night.'

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Sam had searched…everywhere.

Between alleys, the vending machine, the store.

'Maybe he just went out for a beer? He'll be back soon.'

Then he decided to wait one more hour, then if Dean still made no reappearance, he would head out again.

But, somewhere in between: there was a knock at the door.

Thinking it to be Dean, he scrambled over to the door, all hunter training forgotten.

And this thought was the cause of the dismissal of the question 'Why did he knock, doesn't he have a key?"

Grabbing the, rusty, door handle, he thrust and swung the door open.

"De-," Sam started, but the words faltered on his tongue.

"Not quite that lucky, sweetheart, guess again."

Sam stood rigid, vigilant in the doorway.

His mouth snapped shut, in a clenching formation.

The woman standing outside his door, with the bleach white hair, feather light skin, and red velvet dress, that flowed wearily down to her feet, said "My name is Aphrodite, and I am here to help you save your brother."

TBC…

Author's Note:

I had to type this one up quickly, do I apologize for any mistakes. Remember that I have no beta.

I am like obsessed with gods.

Greek, Egyptian, Chinese, you name it.

I absolutely love them. This is obviously the reason I write about gods all the time, so yea.

Reviews much loved. ;]


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Sam glared suspiciously, and loathingly at the supposed 'Aphrodite,' as she called herself. The worry, and choices crowding his brain.

"What? No, he just went out for a beer, he'll be back soon," the reassurance was more to himself then to Aphrodite. His fear crawling, violently, up his spine.

"Darling," she smiled sadly.

"We all know that's not true."

Sam, abruptly, turned away from her. From this, not wanting any of it true.

"So, we have to get going, dear. Before anything horrible happens."

Sam, finally, and slowly, nodded.

"Okay, good, now I'll be back by sunset. I'll need to get word from my brothers and sisters. They'll know the problem, good and well." And then, suddenly, as quickly as she came, she was gone.

Sam, immediately, slammed the door, and crossed the room to his laptop, ibn four long strides.

He then fired the computer up, and clicked the 'Google Search' box, and typed in 'Aphrodite.'

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Dean's breath caught in his throat, as he tried to hold back a grunt of pain.

The dagger dragged, slowly, across his cheek, soft as a kiss, but painful as a needle. Baring down, just hard enough to break the skin, a thin trail of blood dribbling down past his, stained lips.

Dean exhaled, loudly, and roughly, with a ragged breath.

"Not so tough, now, are you Dean?" The demon sneered.

"Yea, well-," Dean was, soon, interrupted by the jagged dagger being ripped, roughly, deep into his bicep.

"Don't talk." Then the demon yanked the knife out from within Dean's flesh, and Dean couldn't help but let out a, horrific, screech.

The monster's evil laugh mingled, and intertwined with the young hunter's yowl of agony, and amusement danced freely among the demon's eyes.

"I have been dieing to, once again live this freely. And, honestly, it's never felt this good," the monster's head ducked, staring down at the cold, stone, floor. The shadows falling, as silent as paws on stone, upon his sunken visage.

"My name is Ares, god of war; shot down from my own mistake, and fault, I made long ago. I will win my way back to the throne, and I'm going to use you to do so."

Dean's eyes widened, glowing brightly, in the shadows of the long forgotten mill.

"But, I guess I can play with you a little, first."

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Sam stared ahead, at the moldy walls as he closed his laptop.

He, now, possessed the knowledge that Aphrodite is actually the Greek deity of love and beauty.

Though, why she is worried with the brothers, Sam does not know.

Sam trained his thoughts over to the, yellow, blanketed bed. His eyes traveling over each dent, that Dean had made the night before, while he slept.

How he wished Dean were sleeping there now, how Sam would gaze, lovingly, down upon his sleeping form while planting gently kisses upon his temple. The ritual they usually performed before sleep.

Tears flooded back into his eyes.

'Oh, Dean, I miss you so much. Please, be okay."

Then, almost as an answer, a knocking came at the door.

Sam approached the door, more cautiously then the last time. Peeking out throught the crack, Sam saw the, beautiful, Greek god, smiling brightly back at him.

"Hello, Sam," Aphrodite chirped in cheer.

"May I come in."

Sam slid the door open, to let her in, but still eyed her in suspicion.

"Okay, so I see there will be no need for introduction. You have already figured out my identity," she observed, angling her head to the notes scattered, aimlessly, around his laptop.

Sam only stood there, his eye twitched, slightly, but he only glared, narrowing his eyes at her.

"Why are you here?" The brunette questioned.

"To help you find Dean, of course!" Aphrodite grinned, her teeth sparkling, as bright as her personality.

"But why?!"

Aphrodite, sadly, gazed up at him through her long golden hair.

"Sam… I am the god of love, and I see you two… You didn't even need my help to realize that you were in love."

The Greek god sighed, running a hand through her hair, and she stared towards the window.

"You two possess more love for eachother then anyone I've ever arranged. And then Dean was taken… It broke my heart."

"Wait! Dean was taken? And this wasn't the first thing you said to me?" Sam's face reddened with fury.

Rage burned deep within his eyes only to be withdrawn and turn to utter defeat.

"I should have heard him, or kept him here, safe, in the bed with me. This is all my fault." Sam babbled, and blamed. Tears running, freely, down his cheeks.

No one could make Sam cry like Dean could.

"No, no, Sam, Ares was determined to find your brother. He would have searched for years and years to find him, he has forever, you know. Revive him as many times as needed, if Dean died." Sam's reddened gaze flicked up towards hers, as she murmured "We'll get him back, I promise."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Sam turned the steering wheel, to the Impala. Driving steadily down the interstate, to Bobby's. It had been two weeks since Dean had been taken, and there was no sign, whatsoever, to where he and Ares were, he and Aphrodite were now suspecting an even bigger problem.

There were thoughts that Ares was planning something.

The question was, what?

Sam felt his heart tighten in sorrow, for what felt like the thousandth time, in the two weeks he had been searching. The loss of Dean almost too much to bare. He only wanted his big brother, sitting right next to him, grumbling about why Sam got to drive instead of him. How Sam would reach over, across the seat, and kiss him on the cheek, and Dean would forget what he was mad about.

Sam pulled into the driveway, pulling the keys out from within the Impala. With no eyes to follow him, Sam leaned forward to set his head atop the steering wheel. Sighing in the guilt that still clung to his chest.

Lifting his head, he pulled the latch to open the door, and let it slide open. Sam had no idea what to say to Bobby but, honestly, he couldn't bring himself to care. With Dean gone, he didn't really anything. Anything but bringing him home.

Stepping out of the car, Sam breathed in the, icy, December air, and then made his way over to the familiar building that stood ahead of him. He saw a silver truck parked in front of Bobby's house, overlapping the gravel, partially parked in the grass.

"What the Hell-…" Sam quickly walked over to the car window, peering inside.

"Sam…" The younger man heard the familiar scruff voice from behind him. Sam's head cocked to the side to glare, odiously, into Bobby's face.

"Who else is here?"

Bobby opened his mouth to speak, to answer Sam's question maybe, or to put some sort of explanation out and into the air. He was going to when a younger, sturdily built, man burst from the door, behind him.

"Sir, we don't exactly, know what's go-…" The man's words faltered, on his tongue, as he caught sight of the steaming young hunter standing in facing him.

While casting his gaze from one man to the other, Bobby said " Well Sam, you told me, on the phone, that you thought that something bigger was brewing."

Sam faintly nodded his head.

"Yea well, I agree with you…"

"And have decided to take action."

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Sam pounded down the hallway. Orders being made as he walked.

"When shall the next patrol scout the route, Mr. Winchester?"

"Dawn."

"We have found some unusual activity near the border of Wood Gorge, what action should be taken, because of it?"

"Watch over it for the next few days, and keep me updated."

"Sir, there is no one left to spy the camp, until the next watch. What do we do?"

"Has your partner arrived, yet?"

"Yes."

"Then, you go, now."

"Yyes, sir."

"Good."

Sam, slowly, with the cup of coffee in his hand, turned the knob and let the door slide open. The weakness in his step, when alone, became clear, for all the energy that Dean had always seemed to rub off on him was beginning to fade, and drain.

Sam knew that, slowly, but surely, he was dieing. You know, he had heard of how the grief in the loss of a loved one, could cause the death of the griever. Though, no matter how willingly Sam would let Death take him, in death Sam could not save his brother. So, here he would stay, in wait.

With a weary sigh Sam, heavily, sat down atop his desk chair.

They'd been at it for three months.

Three months.

Without Dean, without his laughter, or smile, or voice.

Without that sparkle in his eyes, in which Sam adored so.

Sam felt those tears well in his eyes, once more.

'No Sam, not now.'

After Bobby had confirmed their suspicions, of a storm, brewing just over the horizon, they'd discovered a group of hunters, who'd been studying Ares, in his cell, for years.

The god had sent a messenger out to some of the upper class demon, and the hunters had set out to capture these messengers. This method had earned then the knowledge of a war. But, Ares had just recently caught on to this and had ceased his messenger from giving anymore information.

Sam ducked his head down to rest it on his palm.

So, he'd joined their group and the president had made him leader of this project, dure to his experience and determination to get his brother back.

With the blindness of his eyes presses against the flesh on his palm, he senses grew all the more sensitive. It was the reason he heard the patter of high-heels against tile as the footsteps grew nearer to the door.

Sam's head shot up, his hands, quickly, flicking out to straighten the items he had pushed out and scattered amongst his desk. Not wanting the approaching mystery to become aware of his, building, stress.

There was a gentle, timid, knock upon the wood, and a small squeak as they came in.

"Sam," a young woman whispered.

"Sam, are you in here?"

"Yes Verony, come in," Sam replied, desperately willing the irritation to dissipate from his sonancy.

"Hey Sam, I've come to talk to you about… your brother-…"

"Verony, I don't want to talk about this right now, or ever. There is no point in trying to convince me that searching for Dean is vain. And focusing on a different issue, forget about it." Sam was fuming in frustration, at the determination that this, flirtatious, women possessed, to win Sam's heart. The heart locked behind steal bars, and already taken by another.

"You know what? I know what you're trying to do, and I just want to tell you now that it's pointless, okay?" His nostrils flared in the outburst. "My heart belongs to Dean, and you can't just break him off from me just because he's not here. You can't just take advantage of me like that. I'm going to save him, and when I do, we will probably never see eachother again. Actually, I'm counting on it." Sam babbled the point having already been made, but needing the insurance of it.

"Oooh well, II'm sorry, I guess… I'll just go…" Verony stammered. As if they'd never had this conversation before. Verony's, long brown, hair flew out behind her as she spun around to grip the door handle.

Her amber eyes flashed back towards his, hazel, as she murmured. "Oh, and one more thing-…"

"What!" Sam snapped, viciously.

Slightly hesitant at his outburst, she continued. "Can you, atleast, try to be a little kinder to the hunters? You're starting to scare them." Without waiting for a reply. She closed the door, with a click.

Sighing in relief, Sam kept his eyes glued to the door, as he lay back against his office chair.

"What am I going to do without you Dean?"

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The stars shone like fireflies against the ink stained sky. A cool breeze brushed, easily, through the forest. The pines ruffling against eachother, like a duck cleaning its feathers before sleep.

Pure bliss manifested within Sam's eyes. His arms curled, protectively, around the one he missed so.

Dean sighed happily in this embrace. The warm blanket of sleep making itself obvious, as it wrapped around the two Winchester brothers.

"Dean, I missed you. Please, promise you'll never leave again," Sam whispered into the dirty-blonde locks, that was Dean's hair.

"Sam, I wish to spend the rest of my life wrapped in your arms. I've loved you more then I've ever loved anybody ever before, but I cannot keep that promise.

For I still have not returned." Dean squeezed Sam's hand in his own, nuzzling his cheek against Sam's cloth covered chest.

"What?" The work in processing all of what Dean had just spoke of still not having finished within his mind.

"But, I…" Sam sputtered, fidgeting at what all this could mean.

"I have not returned," Dean repeated.

"But, I have full faith in you, remember that. I know you won't ever give up."

Dean's eyes shone, brightly, as tears began to flow into them, Blinking them back, he went on. "And in return, I shall never give up on you. You are my savior, little brother. I'll be waiting." The older hunter reached up to brush the younger's, cherry red, cheek.

Sam's hand shot up, quick as lightning, to grab Dean's arm, the desperation burned like fire within Sam's hazel eyes. Licking, and reaching out to paw at Dean's heart, even though this Dean hadn't one to paw at.

"Please," Sam begged.

"Don't leave, yet." Dean nodded, getting up to his feet, dragging Sam along with him.

"Then lets spend the rest of the night together, real or not."

Then Dean's mouth melted into that smug-ass, mischievous, grin, that only Dean knew how to make. It was so like him; Sam almost forgot that this was a dream.

When he woke up, Dean would be gone.

"Bet you can't catch me," and with that, Dean sped off, whistling into the trees. With Sam soon to follow.

They spent the rest of the night chasing, and tackling eachother, like they did when they were young. Climbing the oaks only to climb back down. Hiding in the undergrowth to ambush the other when they walked by.

They went on like that for hours. Until Sam turned one corner, around a tree, and woke up tangled with the blankets of the king-size bed, of the hotel he was staying at.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Dean held his breath, the pain being like a brick wall against his nose and mouth.

"How does this fell, Dean?" The demon snarled, spit splattering onto his face. Once he caught his breath, Dean's nose wrinkled in disgust. '

"Eww," he muttered, turning his face away from the beast.

"You shall not disrespect me!" Ares screeched, tightly screwing his eyes shut as he did so. Out of the corner of Dean's eye he saw a slight twitch, he soon discovered what it was as sharp, shooting pain sliced through his lower thigh.

His eyes widened until he was sure they would pop out of his head.

The agony had blinded him to his surroundings, the ache being, nearly, too much to bare. He felt the jagged tip of the blade drag across his flesh, the blood, warm, as it ran down the front of his, muscled, leg. He hadn't even realized it when Ares dropped the dagger, and walked from the room.

Dean only stared, fidgeting, into space, praying to whichever god that would listen, that it would all be over soon.

The throbbing faltered, and as it did so, he, sluggishly, lowered his head to gaze at the ground. Catching his breath.

The amount of time he'd been confined there was unknown. Nearly, impossible to tell the time for the only source of light was the crack that winded along the ceiling. But, by how many times he had blacked out, only to wake to a misty time of day, hour, and time he'd been out. Dean knew he had been here for awhile, though that was obvious.

Ares usually gave him small scraps of what he had eaten earlier that day. Small, meager repasts that he, even then, was still grateful for. He knew that the god wanted to kill him, but he was waiting. But, what that was, Dean did not know.

"Dean," Ares then reappeared from his dark corner.

Then, without another word, the god walked over to Dean's shackles, Slowly unhooking them from their catch. Ares removed all the chains but one, that one he used to ensure that Dean run.

Dean then thought

'Maybe, he got what he was waiting for?'

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Sam leaned against the marble counter of the lunchroom, as he drank his coffee. Gazing, distantly, into the fan, spinning high above their heads. He, faintly heard his name being called in the distance. Turning his head towards the sound, he caught sight of the president of the hunter's group, standing with his head bowed towards Sam.

As if beckoning him. Following his orders, Sam, steadily, padded over to sturdy figure.

Out of the whole thing, the president had been the only one Sam really felt at ease towards. He wasn't like the others. He never gave Sam any sympathetic glances, or apologetic words. God knew Sam hated that. Their first conversation had been straight and formal.

"Sam, I am Dr. Jay, the president of… whatever this is, and I'm going to save your brother. Defeating Ares in the process." He'd said, and they'd shook hands, and they hadn't spoken to eachother since.

Dr. Jay didn't push, didn't try to mend Sam's wounds with words. Only stuck to the plan, and that was how Sam liked it.

Sam nodded his greetings, to the president, reaching his place in front of him. Blinking back at the younger hunter, Dr. Jay said "Sam, I would like you to join Phillip in his patrol of the warehouse we found out in the forest. We really think that this could be something."

"What, why what's happening?" Sam questioned, his brows furrowed.

"As I said, this is a recently found, and all the conditions for it to be Ares, that's hiding in there. And incase of possible events that will change the whole route of the project, we want you to take this patrol." The president explained, his eyes glinting, showing that their was more to this scout then he was letting on.

"Who will plan the schedule, while I'm gone?" Sam asked.

"Keven Tirres, you don't know him, but he is good under pressure, and I trust him enough to get the job done."

Sam thought about this for a moment, not really considering to turn down this offering, but thinking about how it all came to this. And how he'd much rather be back at the apartment, curled up with Dean. But we don't always get what we want.

Bringing his gaze back to the president's, he finally murmured

"What time will the patrol be heading out?"

"In about two hours, so, I'd consider gettin' yourself ready." Dr. Jay replied, clutching Sam's shoulder reassuringly, before stalking away, disappearing behind a wooden door.

Sam hurried back over to his coffee, scooping it up into his giant paw, and then heading back to his office to prepare for the upcoming patrol.

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Dean followed the puffing demon, blindly splundering across the moldy floor. With all the days that Dean had been held prisoner here, he'd learned that struggling is vain, and only causes more, unneeded, pain. So, he doesn't try.

Not anymore.

His chains hang low in front of him. His feet tangled in their lengths, resulting in him falling to his side. The rough, chipped pieces of paint on the wall scraped his hand raw. Staring to ooze crimson liquid, he weakly shook it off.

He'd had worse.

Dean then wondered about Sam, his beloved. How could he wishes could say goodbye. For, somehow, unless some miracle would happen, this would probably be his last day on Earth. And he'd lost faith in miracles long ago. Then again, maybe it'd best that Sam not know. Sam is probably tearing the trees out of the earth to find him. Going crazy, searching top and bottom, and around the world. And then discovering that Dean was dead… There could not be a sicker joke. It would destroy him. The process would be slow, and painful, but it would, indeed, kill him.

Emerging into another room, the scent of stale silver and the coppering tang of blood slammed against his nostrils.

He almost gagged at the stench.

A rack hung carelessly above the ground. Bowls and altars filled the table, standing in the mid center of the room, filling the it to its capacity. Suddenly, Dean felt an incredible urge to run. To nowhere in particular. Just somewhere away from here.

Not to Sammy, even.

Dean wanted to flee watching eyes, including the warm loving ones. Knowing he only deserved the hating ones. Dean's biggest wish was to escape, because right now, life didn't really seem like life at all. It felt like a prison of which he could never flee.

With a shrilled grunt, Dean pulled back on his chain, struggling to free himself of his bindings. But months of torture and hopelessness brought languor to hang upon Dean's broad shoulders.

The demon simply barked out "Stop that," as if Dean was a mischievous puppy, and Ares was, the seriously pissed off, owner. Ares, then jerked forward, abruptly, putting a stop to Dean's weak struggles. Calmly walking over to the rack, he re-hooked Dean's chains to the wall.

"We've got time," Ares mumbled, almost to himself, and then, once again, left the room.

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Sam braced his shoulder as it slammed against the car door. The driver's reckless driving being difficult to fight against, on their journey to the abandoned warehouse. Sam prayed to whichever god that would listen, in hope that none of his riding companions would feel the need to talk to him. For he felt if he spoke he would shatter into a million pieces.

Sam, honestly, hoped that Ares be in this one, because his hands were itching to wrap around the war god's throat.

Sam sighed, shaking his head. Wondering why he was dragged into this. Then reminding himself that all this was probably his fault, somehow, it always is.

Suddenly, the car lurched, as it slowed to a stop. Looking around, Sam saw that trees surrounded them at all sides.

"Where are we?" Sam asked, to no-one in particular.

And the driver, ignoring his question completely, the driver barked out,

"We walk the rest of the way." And, following his orders, he slipped out from the vehicle. Huffing, Sam followed suit in stepping from the car, not expecting much more of a response. The wind danced and sang around him. The trees flicked their leaves, dismissively, at the group of hunters.

Sam had no way of knowing which way their destination was, but the rest of the patrol seemed to, so he followed them.

Falling into step, behind them, the forest seemed to swallow them whole, as they stepped into the oceans of greens. Squirrels scampered around the feet of the trees, rustling the dead leaves beneath them. The birds swirled and twitted above them, and right now, Sam wanted to shoot the song right out of them.

They walked on through the canopy of trees, seldom stopping for breathers and drinks. At one of these breaks they'd stopped at an opening in the trees. Where a small clearing of short grass stood, leading over to a drop-off. Peering over the edge, Sam saw thousands of trees, in the distance below. Trailing off into the unknown, shading into a bluish mist, as it lead away.

"Don't get too close," he heard the patrol leader, Darion, as he'd found out, called to him.

Looking back at him over his shoulder, he nodded, then turned away.

Sam listened as Darion explained, behind him.

"Okay, the warehouse is just over the next hill, so we're going to have to be a little more subtle now…" Sam tuned their voices out into the mental fog he had set between himself and the rest of the world. Not wanting to see the life he had fought so hard to save. Even though it seemed to not be worth the trouble.

Sam headed back to the group, as they began to leave. Silently, on their heels, making their way up the small hill. At the top, they peered down at the dark grey building, standing below.

"Wait for my signal," Darion whispered, before sliding down the other side of the hill, to the door. Looking into it, he flicked his hand, indicating for them to follow. As Sam slid down the hill, the leaves barely stuttered, beneath his feet. While the rest of the patrol couldn't have been any louder. Sam rolled his eyes at this,

'I could've done this on my own.' Darion seemed to think this too, for he shook his head in frustration, his brows furrowed, while he raised a finger to his lips and shushed them.

"Quiet," he whispered.

"Follow me," and Darion then stalked, stealthily, into the crumbling building. Surprisingly, the patrol did not trip once, despite all the crap and debris laying amongst the ground.

Sam felt the hairs along the back of his neck stand up. Ice seemed to crawl up his spine, mingling with the slight scent of fear, that showed it obvious that the patrol had sensed it too. Sam spun around at the sudden sensation of being watched by cold eyes.

A young man stood at the entrance, a look of wisdom painted within his eyes. Blood smeared his face, and tattered clothes. Sam knew better then to think it was his.

Two other men stood at his flank, each cocking their heads to the side to observe their little group. They grinned maliciously in anticipation, but Sam couldn't care less about them, for his eyes were stuck on the man in the center. Something in that man just set off a spark of hate deep in Sam's chest.

For a moment, their eyes met, and with a smirk they leapt into action. The next few moments came as a blur. There was nothing but blood, screeching, and the sound of flesh against flesh. And somehow, someway, as he blindingly trampled through the clamor and jumble of fists and knives, Sam found himself face to face with the man he had brought himself to hate so much.

They circled eachother, neither wanting to make the first move, but instead anticipated the other's.

"Who are you?" Sam spat, the question, that had been hanging in his head, finally touching the open air. The man chuckled, darkly, in amusement.

"Don't you know?" Sam glared in response, not really trusting his words at the moment.

"I am the legendary Are, you foolish child." The war god grinned in satisfactory, at the pure look of rage that burned within Sam's eyes, before he charged at the demon. His fist coming into contact with Ares's face.

Stumbling back, he made quick to recover, lunging at Sam and hitting him, head-on, in his chest. Sam staggered to the ground, grunting, he pulled himself up to his feet, only to be pushed roughly, and pinned to the moldy wall by the hands of the demon.

His inhuman strength making Sam's attempts at escape groundless.

Ares bent in close to Sam's ear, whispering so softly that Sam could just barely hear it over the commotion going on behind them.

"And, you know, Dean," Sam tensed at the mention of that name.

"I had him shackled, right where you're standing. I'd slice and cut him until he would beg for mercy. Plead for me to stop. 'Please, please.'" Ares said, mimicking Dean's words.

"Even though, he knew that, that wasn't going to happen. And I'd walk over to him, and sink my knife, slowly, into his flesh. And he'd scream, oh, he'd scream for you."

Anger, and rage bubbled inside him, at the war god's words. Anger giving him strength, he then pushed the reeking from his body.

Looking up, Sam saw that the demon had vanished, into the midst of the fight.

Sam spotted a small stair well, and felt the sudden urge to climb them. What's the point of this fight, no-one would really gain anything, it wouldn't end the war.

They're stalling, Sam realized.

They're trying to keep us from seeing whatever is up those stairs.

So, Sam quickly, sliding around the walls, slunk over to the stairs and began to climb them. The stairs twisted around once, and lead to a small cluttered room. Boxes were stacked, uselessly, in all corners of the room.

Animal waste giving the room and strong odor, and staining the walls with its glory.

And there, in one small corner, he'd have missed it if he hadn't looked twice, was a tall rack with four chains tied, tightly, around a battered, but familiar, man's hands.

"Dean?" Sam called out hopefully.

The man stirred, subtly lifting his head.

"Dean!"

Dean opened his eyes until Sam saw the whites of them.

"Sam," Dean called out, hopefully.

Then, suddenly, out of nowhere, Ares steps out, a knife equipped, firmly, in his claws.

Jabbing it deep within Dean's chest, his older brother convulsed, blood spewed from his mouth. His gaze faltered and his head then fell. His eyes pale grey, and empty as they stare out at him through slitted lids. Sam faintly heard the demon's laugh echo throughout the room.

The sound of his own heartbeat boomed in his ears.

Somewhere, far off, he felt people tugging him back, and he hadn't the strength to fight them. And somewhere, far off, someone called his name. Asking, pleading for something. But right here and now, all Sam could meager was to gaze at Dean's vacant, cloudy, eyes, as blood dripped from his mouth.

And the tugging continued, and Sam hadn't even realized that Dean's face had disappeared behind the corner until they had pushed him outside. And he awoken enough from his stupor to run with the rest of the patrol over the hill, to the clearing with the ledge.

Then, he stopped running, and stared at the ground and went over the last few agonizing moments in his head.

Ares had stabbed him, and he'd fallen, and he hadn't gotten back up.

Sam couldn't get the image of Dean's eyes, staring sightlessly at him, out of his mind.

No matter how many times he shook it.

Emotions swam around his brain, fighting for control as Sam slowly began to lose his mind.

Falling to his knees, Sam screamed long, and loud. It echoed and continued for minutes after he'd ceased and collapsed on the ground.

Dean's dead.

There is nothing left to fight for.

Author's note: I'm sorry I haven't been posting, I've just been very busy the past two weeks. And I also apologize for this story because in my eyes it's a little cliché and I'll try to be a little more original.

Reviews will be loved and cherished like a kitten.


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